


Tumble (Rabbitman)

by TheTravelerWrites



Series: Monster Lovers: Willowridge [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Arson, Babies, Bigotry, Exophilia, F/M, Human/Anthro - Freeform, Human/Monster Romance, Interspecies Romance, Monster Lover, Monster Romance, Pregnancy, Rabbit Monster, Rabbitman, Racism, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Speciesism, Terato, Teratophilia, Xenophobia, bodily injury, human/monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTravelerWrites/pseuds/TheTravelerWrites
Summary: During an age where humans struggle to accept monsters after they have decided to reveal themselves to the public, one particular subset of creature faces more backlash than others, which the reader finds out the hard way.





	1. Part 1

One hundred and seventy six years ago, monsters, creatures, and beasts of all kinds finally decided to stop living in the shadows and made the collective decision to reveal themselves to the human race. Technology was advancing, their territories were shrinking, and the only hope they had to survive was to adapt and try to live alongside humanity.

A few of the races were fairly well known already. Orcs, centaurs, reptilians, that sort of thing, otherwise known as the “established” races. They had been living among humans for eons.

It was the ones who lived in forests and caves, the ones who liked their privacy, the hidden beings, that had finally chosen to declare themselves: dragons, naga, gargoyles, many types of fae and beast-people, and other such antisocial creatures. They came to be referred to as Neogons, an amalgamation of the Greek _néous agónes_ , meaning “new races.” Though, the idea that they were new was laughable. Many of them predated humanity by millennia.

At first, a lot of people took it badly. There were riots and protests, people foaming at the mouth to deny these creatures any civil rights, or as it was still known at the time, human rights. It took years of fighting in the courts, assessing and reassessing what it meant to be “sentient” and “intelligent” and “a person,” but finally, after rigorous tests and examinations, it was declared that any creature that could prove itself sentient would be granted the same rights that humans and the Established already enjoyed.

After a while, people’s attitudes started to shift. It wasn’t all that strange to see a wide variety of Neogons walking through city squares these days. Homes and buildings were modified for the convenience of larger and smaller beings. They found jobs and developed hobbies the same way humans did, and it became normal to see them everywhere.

Except, the strangest thing was that, while the more monstrous creatures were accepted fairly quickly, like hydras, phoenixes, and griffins and the like, the ones that weren’t accepted all that quickly were the ones called “beast-people.” This referred to any creature that had humanoid characteristics: Merfolk, satyrs, harpies, minotaurs, and similar types seemed to be less widely approved of.

It was particularly bad for those that looked _almost_ human. The ones with the normal human figure, who stood up straight and had proportional arms and legs, but had fur and tails, horns or wings, ears and eyes that didn’t suit a human. The ones that you’d never be able to tell weren’t human if you talked to them on the phone. Human beings just didn’t like the idea of sharing their features with beasts, it seemed. Even now, even with laws in place to protect them, they still faced prejudice and hatred.

It had never really affected you before. The little town you grew up in had a few Established non-human families, but for the most part, it was nearly all human. It seemed odd to you that the older citizens seemed to take pride in that, but you shrugged it off. It wasn’t your problem.

Not until a Rabbitman moved to town and opened up a coffee shop. The atmosphere of the town turned cold very quickly. There were a lot of folks who didn’t care, but the ones who did seemed to outnumber them.

Again, it didn’t seem like that big a deal to you. It was none of your business, anyway.

One chilly morning, as you were coming to the end of your normal before-dawn run, you realized his shop was open for the first time. That was a nice change; most other shops didn’t open until seven, which was an hour and a half away. Gratefully, you ducked inside.

It was wonderfully warm and smelled like chocolate and cinnamon inside. He was behind the counter, setting out plates in the display case, and smiled as you came in.

He had soft looking, pale grey fur, brown eyes that took up the entire span of visible space under his eyelids, and longish ears, maybe a handspan and a half long, sticking straight up from his head. His face was slightly elongated and the slitted nostrils of his nose twitched just about constantly, making his whiskers tremble. He wore a simple white button up shirt and black slacks with an apron over both. He had the normal posture of a human, if long and gangly, but you saw a fluffy tail sticking out of a specially tailored cut in the back of his trousers.

“Welcome!” He said. “What can I get for you, miss?”

“Uh,” You said, rubbing your hands against your numb face, looking at the case. “Well, it sort of defeats the purpose of the run I just took, but that cinnamon roll looks amazing.” You pointed to it. “Can I have that and a non-fat caramel latte?”

“You got it, miss,” He said, reaching down and pulling the plate from the case. He turned to put a sleeve on a cup and raised a sharpie to write your name, then paused, looking around at the empty shop.

“I guess I don’t need to ask you your name,” He said with a laugh, gesturing around.

You told him anyway, and he wrote it down with a smile.

“You just moved to the area recently, huh?” You asked him as he brewed your latte.

“Yep, getting settled in,” He said.

“Why here, anyway? No one moves here besides retirees.”

He snorted. “An ex-boyfriend of mine from school talked about this place endlessly. It seemed nice, so when I got enough money to open my own business, I thought, why not here?”

“How are you liking it?”

His right ear twitched slightly, but he smiled. “It’s been good so far, if a little slow. I’m hoping business will pick up further into the season.”

“I hope so,” You told him with a smile, and his own widened. “So, is the sign out front for real? Is your name actually Tumble?”

He laughed out loud. “Yeah, it’s a nickname. I was a competitive gymnast in college.”

“Hey! I did competitive gymnastics in high school!” You said. “Small world.”

“Sure is,” He agreed, though you couldn’t help but notice his voice was a little strained. He finished making your drink and handed it to you. “Enjoy,” He said, still smiling.

“Thanks,” You told him. “See you around.”

He nodded, then went back to plating.

It became a daily ritual, you going for a early morning run and stopping by his shop for breakfast and a coffee. He made you your latte and you picked out a pastry, and the two of you talked for the amount of time it took for the latte to be made. Sometimes, he would have the latte ready for you by the time you came in, but he would still chat with you for a few minutes while you ate your breakfast.

Over time, you couldn’t help but notice that he never seemed very busy. You could see his shop from the window of the shoe store you worked in across the street, and you only ever saw a handful of people going in and out each day. You wondered if he could keep his doors open if he didn’t have more business. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t more popular; his pastries were amazing and he was always quick and courteous.

It didn’t sink in until one morning when you stopped by the shop and found him crouched down outside, scrubbing his front door. His ears were pressed flat against the back of his head in a gesture you could only guess was dismay. Three big words had been written on the window of the door in dripping red paint, words that made your chest tighten.

_Get out, animal._

“Tumble?” You called. He jumped, startled, and looked around at you.

“Oh, miss,” He said, his voice unsteady. “I apologize, but I’m not open yet. If you could come back a little later, I’d be happy to make your order.”

“Tumble,” You said, bending down to put your hand on his bony shoulder. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing to be concerned about,” He said, attempting nonchalance. “Young pranksters, I imagine.”

“Can I help?”

“No, miss,” He said, shaking his head fervently. “It’s best if you come back later.”

“But I--”

“ _Please,_ ” He said in a desperate undertone. “I don’t want them coming after you for being nice to me.”

“Who?” You asked, unnerved.

“Please, miss,” He said insistently. “You should go.”

You lips formed a grim line, looking at him hunched there, quivering with tension.

“I’ll be back later,” You told him. He nodded without looking at you, continuing to scrub furiously at the door.

On your lunch break, you went back to his shop to see him. He’d managed to clean most of the paint, but there was still flecks of red here and there.

He looked up with a tired smile when you came in. “Welcome back, miss,” He said. “Your usual?”

“Um… sure,” You said, frowning with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, miss, I’m alright,” He said. “It was just a vandal. Not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, stopping him by putting a hand on his arm. “You seemed really upset earlier.”

He shook his head tersely, subtly moving his arm so that he was out of your reach. “I was just shook up. I’m alright now.”

“Okay,” You said uncertainly, watching him make your latte. “Tumble?”

“Hmm?” He hummed with his back to you, putting your order together.

“Are you okay? Like, the business, I mean? It’s just that I can’t help but notice you don’t get many customers.”

He sighed, but said, “It’s normal for new businesses to be a bit slow at first. I’m good at what I do. People will see that eventually.”

“I hope so,” You said.

He smiled at you when he handed you your drink. “At least I know I have one faithful customer.”

You smiled back. “Always.”

Later that day, while you were working, you saw him close up shop across the street and head for your store. He was surprised to see you when he walked in, his whiskers twitching.

“Oh!” He said. “Hello, miss. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yep,” You said brightly. “Need some shoes?”

“I’m afraid so, miss” He said, lifting his foot. You noticed a rather large hole in the sole of the otherwise extremely shiny round-toe black brogues. “I’ve put it off for as long as I can, but I’m liable to get a fungus walking around with these.”

You laughed. “Let’s see if I can get you fixed up.”

You turned to lead him to a fitting chair, and noticed your boss glaring at you from the counter. You frowned in confusion and just a hint of self-awareness, but you brushed it aside to assist Tumble.

He sat obediently and pulled off his shoes and socks so that you could measure his foot. You had to admit, he had the most adorable toes you’d ever seen; all fluffy with itty-bitty claws at the end. Best of all, he had _toe beans._ You lifted his ankle to place his foot on the measuring plate, and couldn’t help but notice that his fur felt like feather down, so soft and warm that you really had to stuff down an urge to stroke it.

“So, what kind of shoe are you looking for? Another pair of brogues or something more daring?”

He snorted. “Oh, I think college sapped all the daring I ever had, if any,” He replied. “Another pair of brogues is fine.”

You went off to find a pair similar to the ones he had worn, and returned with a near identical pair. They were pretty rigid, and you asked him to put his socks back on while you worked the heel a little, so they wouldn’t give him huge blisters. Once on, he seemed satisfied, and you took him to the counter.

Your boss still stood there, glaring at the pair of you with his arms crossed. Before you had the chance to ring Tumble up, your boss stopped you.

“I don’t think those shoes will work for you,” He told Tumble, scowling.

Tumble’s jaw set, but he said in a pleasant enough tone, “No, these seem perfectly suitable, and your employee here did an excellent job of finding just the right pair for me.”

“I think you should go elsewhere for your shoes,” Your boss insisted.

You could feel yourself getting angry. Tumble sighed and reached down to take off his new shoes, but you jerked him upright by his arm.

“Why?” You asked your boss. “Those shoes fit him fine. He’s a paying customer who found what he needed. Why does he have to go somewhere else?”

Tumble bent close and said in a low tone, “It’s not worth it, I’ll just go.”

“No!” You said. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to pay for your new shoes.”

“ _His_ money’s no good here,” Your boss said belligerently.

“What about mine, hmm?” You asked. You could feel your face getting flushed with rage. You pulled out your wallet and slapped down whatever was in it. “There. _I_ paid for it.”

He swiped it off the counter. “I don’t need any money from a filthy animal-fucker!”

You felt like you'd been slapped in the face. “And I don’t need to work for a bigot!” You shouted, throwing your apron at him. “He’s not an animal!” You took Tumble’s hand and stomped toward the door. "I quit!"

“You walk out of that door with those shoes and it’s theft!” Your ex-boss shouted at you.

“Oh yeah?!” You shouted, swinging around to stare down your ex-boss with Tumble watching helplessly behind you. “How about I call up the better business bureau and report non-human discrimination? How about I hire one of those fae pro-bono lawyers who try cases just like this and take you for everything you’ve got? Would that be worth the price of a pair of shoes?”

He got very red in the face for a moment before screaming, “Get the hell out of my store! If you ever come back in here, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“Oh, I promise you, I will never set foot in this tacky shithole! The owner is a fucking racist!”

You dragged Tumble by his arm and slammed the door behind the two of you. You marched across the street, pulling him like a ragdoll, until you were back at his coffee shop. You turned and held out your hand for the keys, and he gave them to you, slightly apprehensive. You unlocked the door, pushed him into a chair, and locked up again. You sat down opposite from him and crossed your arms and legs, shaking with fury.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, with him watching you nervously.

“I…” He began. “I’ll pay you back. For the shoes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You said huffily. “Think of is as an apology for letting that dick talk to you like that.”

“But you didn’t let him,” He said in distress. “You lost your job because of me.”

“I didn’t lose my job because of you, Tumble,” You said with an agitated sigh. “I _quit_ my job because my boss was an asshole.”

He attempted a smile, but it was a weak one. “There must be some way to repay you,” He said, his whiskers twitching. “I think I know of one.”

You couldn’t help but smile slyly. “I thought you were into guys.”

His mouth fell open and his ears stood straight up in surprise. He seemed at a loss for words. “Uh… No, I didn’t… Well, I’m bisexual, but that’s not what I meant. I could use an assistant, if you would like the job. I’ve been working eighteen hour days and I’m rather exhausted. Plus…” He sighed, a little defeated. “People don’t like buying from me. Maybe if I had a human as the face of the store, business might pick up." He paused, looking at you hard. “I hesitate to ask this of you, though, because I don’t want to draw any animosity toward you for befriending me.”

“I’m not worried about that--” You stopped, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“I am,” He said. “You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a friend in this town. I don’t want you to get hurt because your associating with me.”

You put a hand over his. “I can take care of myself, and I’m happy to take the job.”

He smiled as if in relief. “Wonderful. When can you start?”

“Well, considering I expected to be at work for another few hours, why not start right now?”

His grin widened. “Thank you, miss.”

You giggled. “You know, now that your my boss, you can use my name.”

He laughed and ducked his head. “Of course.”

Hiring you did seen to help, in fact. Tumble stayed in the kitchen area, making the pasties, and you worked the counter and greeted the customers. It was slow at first, but after a few weeks, people began to come in more regularly. You went from maybe a dozen a day to at least fifty, and it steadily got better as time went on. As long as Tumble stayed out of the public eye, business went well.

At the same time, you hated the fact that he had to hide in his own shop. You tried to get him to come out to the counter every once in a while, just for a few minutes, so that people would get used to him, but he’d just smile and shake his head and say that as long as business was good, there was no reason to stir up trouble. You told him it was stupid that _trouble_ was synonymous with the owner of a business being seen in his own business. He just shrugged his shoulders.

You started noticing people staring at you. It wasn’t anyone you knew or had seen in the coffee shop, but you had seen them in town before. They would point at you and whisper to each other. At first, you ignored it, but eventually the words _animal fucker_ drifted to your ears. You gritted your teeth and gripped your purse, determined not to let it get to you.

After working with Tumble for two months, you came to the shop one morning only to find that all of the windows had been smashed in. Tumble was inside, sweeping up the glass.

"Oh," He said when he noticed you standing there, gaping at the destruction. "Are you hungry? I can get you--"

“Don’t worry about that right now,” You said seriously. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” He said, rubbing his forehead.

“I _am_ worried about it,” You told him. “Who did this?”

He didn’t answer, simply continued sweeping.

You sighed harshly and pulled the broom from his hands, making him sit down at one of his tables, which he did without resistance. He put his head in his hands while you made him a cup of coffee with cream and a drip or two of chocolate syrup, which you knew from your many early morning breakfasts together was his favorite. You set it down in front of him and he looked up with a sad smile.

“Did you call the police and file a report?” You asked him.

He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “There’s no point. They wouldn’t do anything about it even if I did.”

“What are you talking about?” You said. “This is unacceptable.”

“It’s nothing, it’s just a vandal,” He said dismissively. “I’m not hurt and nothing was taken.”

“Is that a likely thing to have happen?” You asked him shrilly.

He sipped his coffee and didn’t answer.

“What are you going to do?” You asked softly.

“I’m going to keep my shop open and deal with it,” He said solemnly. “I’ve already called to get the windows replaced. I’ve dealt with bigots my entire life. This isn't anything I haven't seen before.”

You frowned. “Did you really deal with stuff like this all the time before you came here?”

“Before I came, since I came,” He said, sighing. “It’s nothing new.”

You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t figure out what to say. “Is there… Can I do anything to help?”

He rubbed his face. “Honestly, it would be better if you stopped working here and didn’t make friends with me. As much as I’ve enjoyed your company, being near to me will make you a target for people.”

You thought back to those assholes throwing around words like _animal fucker_ and _beastman’s whore_. You straightened your spine.

“I don’t care about what other people do,” You said. “You’re my friend. I’m not going to abandon you because people are stupid and small-minded. I’m not scared of them. You shouldn’t be either.”

He stared into his coffee with a grim look on his face. “I wish I could be as brave as you.”

“I’ll be brave enough for the both of us,” You said.

His chin quivered and he covered his eyes with one hand, shielding his tears from you. You reached out and pulled him close, laying his forehead against your shoulder and stroking the back of his neck. He was so, so soft.

“I’m not giving up,” You whispered. “Don’t you, either.”

“I won’t,” He said in a shaking voice.

“Good,” You replied, patting his back firmly and pulling away. “Now let’s get this place cleaned up and open. It’s Wednesday; this place will be packed by noon.”

He smiled at you gently, then reached out and touched your cheek briefly before standing and taking up his broom again. He managed to get the windows replace just in time for the midday rush, and everything went smoothly from then on for that day.

That night, he handed you your paycheck for the week, saying apologetically, "It's not as much as it should be, but with the windows..."

You rubbed his upper arm comfortingly. "Don't you worry about it, okay? If we're gonna make this place work, it's gonna take time and sacrifice. You can worry about that stuff after that, okay?"

He nodded gratefully and gave you a very brief hug before bidding you goodnight and going into the back room to count receipts.

When you got home, your parents met you in the living room.

“Hon?” Your mom called out.

“Yeah, what’s up, you guys?” You asked. They both had really serious looks on their faces, which was unusual.

“We heard about what happened today at the shop,” Your dad began. “We… we think you should stop working there.”

“What?” You said. “No! Tumble is being harassed, I’m not just going to abandon him. He’s got no one else he can turn to in this town.”

“Honey,” You mom said, a simpering look on her face. “You know what people say about you, don’t you?”

Your chest tightened. “What exactly do people say, _Mom_?

“Well, that you’re…” She lowered her voice, as if she expected to be overheard. “That you’re sleeping with him.”

You narrowed your eyes and cocked your neck. “Um, well, I’m not, he’s my boss. And even if I were, I’m an adult. Why does it matter?”

“Honey, you know why,” Your mom said with exasperation. “He’s… not human.”

“So what?” You said. “Mrs. Davenport isn’t human, and you like her just fine.”

“Yes, but she’s an orc, honey,” Your dad said. “She’s not… you know…”

“No, I don’t know,” You said, crossing your arms. “Please, Dad, enlighten me.”

“She’s Established, she's not…” He cleared his throat and faltered under your glare. You mother looked at him in annoyance.

“She’s not an animal, honey,” Your mom said.

“Oh, my God,” You said, massaging your temples. “Tumble is not an animal, Mother! He thinks and speaks and he’s pretty fucking intelligent! He has a goddamn soul. I can’t say the same for either of you!”

“Don’t talk to us that way,” Your dad said angrily. “This has gone on long enough. We let you work there because you went and got yourself fired from the shoe store--”

“I quit,” You retorted.

“But enough is enough. We’re worried about what people are saying and we’re worried about what people will do if you keep hanging around that…” Your father huffed a breath out of his nose sharply. “You’re not working at that coffee shop anymore, and you’re not going to associate with that animal anymore.”

“You don’t have the right to tell me where I can and can’t work or who I can and can’t associate with! I’m not a child!”

“I have _every_ right to! You live under my roof, don’t you?! You’re going to do what I tell you or you’re free to leave, since, as you say, you’re an adult now. I don’t have any room in my house for ungrateful brats who don’t know who the wrong kind of people are.”

You scoffed. “That is easily fucking rectified,” you said, then shot up the stairs, throwing clothes and toiletries into a bag with reckless abandon. Your father was shouting at you from downstairs, and your mother was trying to reason with you at the same time, but you ignored them both.

As you made your way back downstairs, your father tried to block your exit, but you pushed past him and walked out of the door.

Of course. Of course it would be raining. It didn’t matter. You walked as fast as your short legs would carry you to the shop, the raindrops hitting your skin like icy needles. It was a good forty five minutes from your house without the bus, which wasn’t running at this hour, but you didn’t care. You weren’t going back to that house.

Finally, soaked to the bone and freezing, shivering and sniveling, you made it back to the shop. The lights in the shop were off, of course, but the light in the upstairs apartment was on. There was an outside stairwell at the back of the building, and you trudged up it, standing under the meager awning as the rain hissed against the tin. You raised your hand and knocked.

It took a moment, but you heard his voice call out: “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” You called out hoarsely.

You heard several locks sliding open and the door swung inward, revealing his shocked face. You must have been quite a sight.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he looked you up and down. “God, you must be frozen. Come in, come in. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You sniffled, not just from the cold. “I hate to do this to you, but do you have a couch I could crash on?”

Despite how wet and cold you were, he laid a hand on your shoulder. “Of course,” He said. “What happened?”

“My parents,” You said, shame leaking into your voice. “They told me to stop working for you. They said you were the wrong kind of people. They’re so stupid!” You felt tears pricking at your eyes. “They’re all so stupid!”

He took a deep breath. “They’re just trying to look out for you, I’m sure. They’re afraid of what might happen to you because of me. I can’t say I blame them.”

You broke down. “Why do they hate you?” You sobbed. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with you! You’re lovely! They’re the monsters, not you!”

He hugged you, soaking the front of his clothes without a care. He squeezed you tight and and held you as you shook and cried against his neck.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’ve never understood it, either,” He said softly. “I wish I did.”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Tumble and the reader begin to relax, an act of violence against them reminds them that they aren't safe from the hateful people in their town.

He released you and held you at arms length, looking down at your soaking wet clothing and bag.

“I was just trying to decide what to cook for dinner, and now I think soup might be best.” He pulled the bag from your shoulders and set it on the floor with a hand towel underneath it. “There’s a bathroom just through that doorway there, with a spare bathrobe. Why don’t you take a shower while I put your clothes in the dryer? Hopefully by the time you’re done, you’ll have something warm to wear and hot to eat.”

His kindness nearly made you cry again. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry to impose.”

“Not at all,” He said with a smile, carefully extricating the clothes from the bag. “That’s what friends are for.”

You went to the small bathroom and peeled off your clothes, putting them on the shower rod so that it they wouldn’t drip everywhere, and turned on the shower. The warm water was a welcome comfort, and you felt the tension in your shoulders easing down. He had simple soap but a very nice shampoo and conditioner specifically formulated for fur. You didn’t know how it would work on your hair, but you used it anyway.

After washing yourself and warming up, you just stood under the water, letting it cascade down your body, mulling over everything. How had you been so blind to this before? How arrogant you were, thinking this wasn’t your problem. This was _everyone’s_ problem, whether they wanted to accept it or not. This wasn’t right. _Someone_ had to do _something_.

Eventually, you reminded yourself not to use up all of his hot water, and stepped out, slipping his spare bathrobe on and dragging a towel through your hair.

You walked back out to the kitchen to find him bent over a pot, stirring and sniffing. It smelled amazing. You also smelled bread baking.

He looked around at you as you came in. “Feeling better?”

“Much, thank you,” You sighed as you sat at the table. “That smells wonderful.”

“Thank you,” He said. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s vegetarian.”

“Not at all,” you said. “I don’t eat all that much meat, either.”

He pulled a tray of rolls from the oven, and your mouth began to water.

“Can I help with anything?” You asked.

“No, no, you’re a guest,” He insisted, lading soup into a bowl and placing two rolls on a plate. He brought you your food before serving himself, and you waited for him to sit down with his before starting to eat. It was a very rich potato and leek soup that tasted incredible. The rolls were light and fluffy and had a hint of fennel seed and sesame oil.

“This is wonderful,” You told him earnestly. “You are such a good cook.”

He grinned broadly. “Thank you,” He replied. “Since my most recent ex, I really haven’t cooked for anyone besides myself. Although, she was a bit of a meat-eater, so my cooking was a little light for her taste.”

“Well, she was insane,” You said. “I’ll find a motel tomorrow. You won’t have to put up with me for long.”

“Don’t be silly,” He said, shaking his head. “You’re more than welcome to stay here. The couch pulls out and is actually pretty comfortable. I slept on it before I got my bed.”

“If you’re sure?”

He smiled. “Positive.”

You were about to thank him again, but your cell phone rang. You looked and saw it was your mother. Scoffing, you rejected it and slammed the cover shut.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing,” You said tersely.

“Was it your parents?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Maybe they’re trying to apologize.”

“I’m not the one they need to apologize to,” You told him. “Unless they come to your door and apologize to you _to your face_ , I have nothing to talk to them about.”

He watched you eat for a moment with the spoon he held resting in his bowl before stuttering, “You know… I… I just wanted to say… how grateful I am to you for your support. I’ve only ever lived in small towns, and the atmosphere seems to be the same in all of them. I’ve had friends before, but none of them have ever… fought for me like you do. It… means a lot to me…” He swallowed with difficulty.

“I shouldn’t have to fight for you,” You said softly. “This shouldn’t even be an issue. You’re not an animal. You’re a person.” You reached across and took his hand. “And I’ll take anyone on to prove it.”

He gripped your fingers in return with his head bowed over his bowl.

Tumble helped you pull out the couch and make it up with fresh linens around the time the dryer finished with your clothes. Back in the bathroom, you shimmied into your pajamas and brushed your teeth, but you didn’t really feel like sleeping. He bid you goodnight and went to bed, since he got up very early to get the shop ready for the day, and you lay on the fold out, staring at the ceiling fan and stewed.

He woke up about four in the morning, readying himself for the day. He was trying and succeeding in begin silent as he made his way out of the door and down to the shop, but you sat up when you saw him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He said when you sat up. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” You replied, sighing heavily. “I never fell asleep.”

His ears twitched in concern. “Why don’t you take the day off to rest, then?”

You smiled at him. “You’re too sweet to me. No, I’d rather work. It’ll take my mind off things.”

He smiled gently. “If you’re sure.”

You nodded, pulling the blankets off your legs. “I can be ready in ten minutes and then I’ll be at the shop. You should go down, I won’t be long.”

He shook his head. “I’ll wait for you,” He said, seating himself at the table.

You smiled and grabbed up a shirt and pair of pants, which he had neatly folded for you after he’d taken them from the dryer the night before, and headed to the bathroom.

Working with him did a lot to calm your thoughts. He’d become a very good friend to you over the course of the months you’d known him. You could talk to him about anything. You commiserated over ex boyfriends and girlfriends, talked about books and movies, always quick with a joke or a smile, quick to anticipate each other’s needs. It was strange how attuned the two of you were to each other. It felt natural. Effortless.

Finally, after a few weeks of living together, you convinced Tumble to work the counter with you for a short time every day. You now had a loyal customer base, and a few looked askance at him at first, but once they talked to him, his sweet temperament and obvious intelligence won them over. Soon, he was working the counter on his own with no trouble, even making some new friends.

Every once in a while, though, you’d get a belligerent rabble-rouser looking to cause trouble, but they were quickly evicted by the loyal patrons. Business was better than ever, and Tumble was even able to upgrade the shop and remodel the apartment. He asked you to become his business partner, rather than just his assistant. You took him up on his offer immediately. He looked happy, and you were relieved to see him in such high spirits.

A few times, while you were out at the grocery store or the pharmacy, you saw one of your parents. You’d simply stare at one another, and both of you would move on without saying a word.

You had gone back to your parents place a few days after you left, once you knew they were both gone to work, so you could pick up your other important belongings, like your computer, photos, and your hobby stuff. You tried to keep the things you took to a minimum; you didn’t want to clutter up Tumble’s apartment with all your junk.

Business was going so well that he was able to hire additional help, so that the two of you weren’t working sixteen hour days, seven days a week, and could actually take a break every once in a while. It was nice to finally have a day off after months of non-stop working.

One day, while you were helping him go over the books and eating dinner, you said, “We’re doing really well. I’m making enough that I can afford my own place now. I’ll start looking for an apartment so you can have your couch back.”

You thought he’d be pleased, but his ears drooped a bit.

“There’s no rush,” He said. “I don’t mind putting you up a little longer.”

“But I don’t need to stay now,” You said brightly. “No more mooching off you.”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and his ears pressed against the back of his head. He put down his fork and knitted his fingers together in front of his mouth, something he did when he was anxious.

“Would… would it be inappropriate… for me to ask you to stay?”

You were surprised. “Stay?”

“With me. In the apartment.” He clarified. He looked up at you briefly before returning his gaze to his plate. “I have come to treasure your companionship over these last few months. If you left, the apartment would feel… empty.”

You were breathless, unable to speak. He let the silence stretch out, unwilling to break it, but you couldn’t find words with which to answer him.

His ears twitched nervously. “If you don’t want to stay with me, that’s okay. I just wanted to offer. There’s just… no reason for you to leave if you don’t want to.” He looked so sad, which pierced your heart after how happy he’d been lately. You didn’t want him falling back into despair. Besides, you actually really did like it here. You really liked… him.

“...I’ll stay,” You said in a small voice.

His ears perked up and he looked at you, lowering his hands from his face. His eyes were wide and glittering.

“You will?”

You smiled hesitantly, charmed by his innocent, wide-eyed joy. “How could I refuse such a kind offer?”

He stood abruptly, coming around to pull you out of your chair and hug you tight. “I’m so happy you’ll stay!” He said. “I… I really like having you around.”

“I like being around,” You said, and you pulled back to look at his sweet, soft face and press a gentle kiss to his lips. He actually squeaked.

“You… you don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore either,” He said. “If you don’t want to.”

You giggled and kissed him again.

Later than night, you were snuggled in bed with him, pleased to learn he was just as fuzzy everywhere, when you asked, “Where did you grow up? You said you’d always lived in small towns. Did you move around a lot?”

“Not at first,” He said, his arms wrapped around you. “My family and I started out in a community of people like me, funnily enough, known as a rabbithole. Well, our people call it that, but when other people do, they make it sound like it’s a den of dirt that we wallow in. It’s far from it, really. Our people are actually fastidiously tidy.” He sighed, tightening his grip a little. “My father wanted to go out into the world and see what it had to offer us. His mistake. It got him killed eventually.”

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered against his chest.

You felt him shrug. “Mom tried to return us to the rabbithole, but they didn’t want us back. They were highly traditional and saw Dad as a deserter for leaving. Leporids, which is what we call ourselves, have a very ‘us versus them’ mentality. I didn’t understand why back then. By god, I do now.”

You stroked the fur on his collarbone and said nothing. What could you say?

“We moved around a lot after that, never in one place for too long. Mom took any job she could get, scrubbing floors and cleaning up after rich humans and less rich Established. She broke her back to send us to school, so that we could have better lives. I wish she could see us now. We’re all doing pretty well.” You felt his body tense.  “Although, anything is better than licking the boots of people who think they’re better than us.”

“Jesus,” You said. “And I thought it was bad when the boys in third grade made fun of my pixie cut.”

He chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. His whiskers tickled your ear. “I am worried about you.”

“Why are _you_ worried about _me_?”

“Because being with me will make you a target,” He replied matter-of-factly. “You may not have experienced much of it yet, but it will get worse when people find out we’re together. That’s how it always was for my human exes. The pressure of it drove them away. I should just break up with you; it’d be safer for you in the long run.”

“You won’t do that,” You said certainly.

“And why not?”

“Well, first, it’s rude to break up with someone the day your start dating them, and more importantly, because I’ll kick your tiny, adorable ass,” You said, looking up at him sternly.

He smiled gently down at you. “I believe you,” He said with a laugh, but he sobered quickly. “I still worry.”

You snuggled him as tightly as you could. “I know.”

You didn’t exactly broadcast your relationship with Tumble to the rest of the town, but you didn’t hide it, either. You weren't shy of holding his hand or kissing his cheek in public. He didn’t push you away when you did these things, but you knew he was nervous about public displays of affection and had a tendency to be standoffish when the two of you were out.

He more than made up for it in private; he was sweet and attentive and affectionate when you were alone, and you never once questioned whether or not he loved you. You didn’t think he was hiding you; you knew it was just fear. You wished you could take his fear away, but an entire lifetime of systematic discrimination created instincts that were hard to fight.

You knew people were whispering about you, but you didn’t care. He cared, though: the only time you ever saw him get angry is when he overheard people saying disgusting things about you. You both knew he couldn’t retaliate without huge ramifications, he could only clench his fist and walk away.

It was hard for you to see someone with such a gentle countenance tormented to the point of rage like that, but you did your best to comfort him and tell him that words were just words and you didn’t care. Sometimes that was enough, sometimes it wasn’t.

Despite everything, you were still happy. He loved you like no one ever had and you adored him right back. Whenever he looked at you, he always seemed to be smiling. You had been worried that living and working together might make the two of you grow tired of each other, but in reality, you could scarcely be apart for more than ten minutes without missing the other’s company. It was pure, simple love. No limits. No conditions.

Eight months into your relationship, you closed up shop for the night while he washed the dishes in the back room. After you were finished wiping down the counters and tables and stacking the chairs, you went to dry the plates for him. He smiled when you went to stand next to him and placed a kiss on your neck.

“Tumble,” You said with your heart pounding against your ribcage. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” He asked, scrubbing some particularly stubborn icing off of the porcelain. “Everything okay?”

“Yes and no,” You said. “It could be good news but it could be bad news, depending on how you take it.”

“That sounds ominous,” He said, setting the plate down, wiping his hands, and looking at you straight on while leaning his hip against the sink. “Tell me. What’s going on?”

“Well, you know I went and had my yearly check-up this morning, right?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said with a frown, folding his arms. “You looked pale when you came back home. I was going to ask about it, but we got a rush in before I got the chance. What happened? Are you alright?”

“Well, they ran a bunch of blood tests, like they normally do…” You stumbled to a stop, looking at his belt buckle rather than his face.

He bend down so he could see your eyes. “Did they find something?”

“Yeah,” You said, taking as deep a breath as your lungs could safely hold without exploding. “They found a baby.”

He didn’t respond. Or move. Or breathe. You forced yourself to look up at his face. He looked like he’d taken a punch to the guts.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You asked.

His hands came up and took your face. “You’re pregnant?” He asked in a barely audible whisper.

You started to cry, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah,” You sniffled. “And I want you to know, I’m happy. I am so proud to be carrying your baby. But I’m scared, too. I’m scared you’ll hate the idea of having kids with me. I know you’re worried and this isn’t something we ever talked about and that this might be the last thing you would ever want. I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful--”

He stopped you with a kiss and hugged you tight. “Shh. There’s nothing on earth you could give me that would be worth more to me than this. I’m so happy,” He whispered into your hair.

You laughed and cried at the same time, overcome with relief. You pulled back to look at this face. He was also crying.

“You mean that?” You asked him thickly. “You’re not just saying it to make me feel better?”

“No,” He said, laughing and petting your face. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.” He placed both hands on your stomach and knelt down, kissing your belly. “I didn’t expect it to happen so soon into our relationship, but if I were to have children with anyone, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Well, I’d hope so,” You said, thumping your knuckles lightly against his shoulder.

“Not just because I love you, though that’s certainly a factor,” He said as he stood, twitching your nose. “But because I know there’s no one on earth who would fight for our kids like you will. You’re more of a fighter than anyone I’ve ever met, far more than me. If anyone would be a champion for my children, it’s you, and I take immense comfort in that thought.”

You sighed, wiping your eyes. “I’m so relieved. I thought for sure, with everything, you’d be upset.”

He also wiped his face and sighed heavily. “I wish they were being born into a better world, but hopefully we’ve found enough love here to offset the hate.”

“I hope so,” You said, hugging him tight.

“Not to alarm you, but you should expect multiples,” He said with a laugh in his tone. “I hate to perpetuate a stereotype, but we do tend to have litters, even when we breed with other races.”

“How many are we talking?” You said, indeed alarmed.

“The most I’ve ever heard of is fifteen,” He said, and you pulled your head back in horror. He snickered at your expression. “But that’s unusual, even for us. Somewhere between three and six is common among two Leporids. We’ll likely have twins, maybe triplets.”

“Here I was trying to wrap my head around one baby,” You said, suddenly feeling more nervous than before.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” He assured you gently. “And who knows? Maybe this little shop of ours will end up being a family business.”

“That sounds nice,” You said, clutching him.

As happy as you were to let people know about your relationship with Tumble, you were far more hesitant to reveal your pregnancy to the public. You suddenly acutely understood Tumble’s reticence about it before. The idea of any harm coming to your baby, or babies as Tumble insisted, was physically painful to think about, and the thought that there were people in this town who might wish them harm filled you with an anger you had never felt before. Tumble had been right when he’d said you’d fight for these children; you’d tear this town to its foundation with your teeth if anyone tried to hurt them.

Eventually, though, your belly broadcast it to the entire town, and it immediately informed you of who your true friends were and who weren’t. It was disheartening to know that people you previously thought were good, non-judgemental people suddenly drew the line at half-breed babies, but you supposed it was better to find out sooner rather than later.

Tumble was at your side nonstop, tending to your every possible need. He had converted and enlarged a utility closet in the apartment to a nursery, hoping to build an upper floor once the babies were a bit bigger, providing he had the funds to do so. You watched him go through this adorable kind of nesting phase with a soft smile, letting him do what he needed to do to give him piece of mind, while also gently reminding him that you didn’t need ten breaks a day and that he didn’t need to supply you with snacks constantly, though you did appreciate it.

Six months in, you were in bed asleep when you woke up coughing. You were confused at first, but you realized you couldn’t breathe. And that you could smell smoke.

“Tumble!” You said, reaching for his arm in a panic. “Tumble, wake up!”

He snapped awake with a sharp inhale, choking on the air. “Oh, god,” He said. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” You gasped. “We need to get out!” You pulled him out of bed and toward the door, but stopped him before he could take hold of the handle. “Look!”

You saw a bright, flickering light under the gap in the door, and when you looked up, you saw flames licking the inside of the doorframe.

“Shit!” He hissed. “That’s the only way out!”

“What about the windows?” You asked.

“They don’t open!” He said. “Even if they did, it’s a twenty-foot drop! We’d both be badly injured at that height! You could lose the babies!”

“What choice do we have?” You asked him, holding a cloth to your face. The heat was becoming more than a little uncomfortable, and you saw the flames reach the ceiling above the door. “We have to! We can’t get out through the door! We’ll be roasted alive if we stay! And you know we can’t rely on _them_ to help us!”

He huffed, coughed, and nodded, yanking up a nightstand to hurl at the window. It shattered, causing a backdraft that blew the door open, pulling more of the fire into the room. He took the blanket from the bed to cover the shards of the broken window. He then grabbed you, kissed you, and the both of you jumped.

He managed to twist his body so that he landed first and you mostly fell on him, though you did feel your head impact with the ground. You heard a horrifying snapping sound and he screamed. You scrambled to get off of him and check him.

“My leg,” He gasped, and you looked. A jagged bone jutted out from the skin. You held his head in your lap and kissed his face.

“It’s okay,” You sobbed. “We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“The babies,” He wheezed, trying to reach for your belly to feel. “Your head.”

“It’s okay,” You repeated, touching your face and feeling blood. You also felt one of them nudge you from inside. “I think they’re alright. Their daddy saved them.”

He cried from pain and relief. The two of you lay there shivering in shock, until you heard sirens in the distance.

Two hours later, a little while before dawn, the two of you lay in hospital beds side by side. You had a concussion and some cuts to your arms and legs, but Tumble was in far worse shape. In addition to his broken leg, having you fall on him ruptured one of his kidneys and he was bleeding internally. He was going to need surgery in the morning to stop it. He was scared, and once you were cleared to get up, you refused to let go of his hand.

As the sky began to lighten outside, there was a knock on the door. When you called, a officer came in.

It was another beast-person: a cheetah rakshasa wearing a black suit with his badge on his belt. You’d never seen him in town before.

“Good morning, sir, ma’am,” He said, nodding to you and addressing Tumble. “Are you Tenkor Broadfoot?”

“Call me Tumble,” Tumble said weakly. “Everyone does.”

“Mr. Broadfoot, miss” The officer continued. “I’m Tobin Freemont, I’m an agent with the FBI’s hate crime division. I understand you are in a lot of pain at the moment, but if you’re feeling up to it, would you and your partner be willing to answer some questions concerning the fire for me?”

“I’ll try,” Tumble said. “We don’t really know much.”

“I’ll try to be quick,” He said, retrieving a notepad and pen from his breast pocket. “Do you have any idea what could have caused the fire?”

“No,” Tumble said. “We’ve done some remodeling because of the babies, but I had all the wiring tested and it was all safe. And we’re both diligent about fire safety in the cafe.” Tumble looked to you for confirmation.

“Yes,” You replied. “We’re very on top of safety procedures, especially now.” Unconsciously, you touched a hand to your stomach. One of the little ones kicked you back as if to say, _it’s okay. We’re still here_.

Freemont jotted that down. “Okay. Is there anyone in town who might have a grudge or want to hurt you? Have you gotten any threats?”

You and Tumble exchanged a weighty glance.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Freemont said, scribbling.

You sighed. “Tumble has faced some bigotry since he got to town, but there are a lot of people in town who… really aren’t happy that we’re together or than I’m carrying his children.”

“I imagine not,” Freemont said. “Look, I’ll be honest with you folks. I’m not here by accident. Hate crimes against Neogons are on the rise in small towns just like this one, and the severity of the offenses committed are getting worse and worse. We got an anonymous tip that you were being harassed and I was asked to investigate. I didn’t realize how serious the situation was, or I’d have been here sooner.”

“You were sent here?” Tumble asked.

“Yes,” Freemont said. “There’s a nationwide program in place to protect targeted Neogons, like you and I. I faced heavy opposition when I tried to join the academy. Having a human wife didn’t help me with that, either.” He gave a knowing nod in your direction and tapped his pen on his badge. “This program has only been in place for a short time, but we’ve uncovered thousands of incidents of unlawful violence toward beast-people all across the country, the bulk of it happening in towns like this one, where people are more likely to keep themselves to themselves and not report any of the incidents to the police. I’m almost positive the fire at your cafe wasn’t an accident.”

Tumble sighed and lay back in his bed as if unsurprised by the news. You massaged his shoulder gently.

“Give me some time to look into this,” Freemont said, standing. “I’ll get back to you when I have some information.”

“Thank you, Agent,” Tumble said in a flat voice.

“Sure,” Freemont replied, and left.

The surgery went well, but Tumble was going to have to stay in the hospital for a while, which was going to rob you both of all the savings you had. You had been released from the hospital, but you refused to leave, mostly because you didn’t want to leave Tumble alone, but also because you couldn't go back to the cafe. You were terrified to see what was left of the beautiful home Tumble had given you.

It was unavoidable, though. Eventually, Tumble was released, and one the way to your motel you were going to have to pass right by it. There was nothing for it. You stopped in front of the building and got out of the car, ripping the police tape out of your way.

The entire block had been cordoned off by the police, so it was just the two of you there, staring at the ruins of your home and livelihood. It was gutted. You could see straight through out the other side of the building. It was a shell. The upper floor seemed less charred, but there was no way to get up there and you feared any pressure would cause the entire building to collapse. The lovely pale blue paint of the building was ash grey and peeling. The skeleton of the architecture was brittle and looking at it was painful.

You helped Tumble sit on a bench outside of the building nearby, and the two of you could only hold hands and weep. Everything the two of you had built and worked for, gone. Tumble’s savings, his dream, his hard work and years of sacrifice, up in smoke. Your children’s inheritance and security. Ashes.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, but at some point, a giant, black truck pulled up on the edge of where the street was blocked off. You both looked up apprehensively. A broad, elderly man stepped out. He had on camouflaged cargo pants and an plain black t-shirt, as well as a black ball cap with the word _VETERAN_ emblazoned across it. He looked at the two of you for a moment before retrieving a shovel from the bed of his truck. He walked straight up to the bench and stopped in front of the two of you, staring you down. You and Tumble clung to each other.

The large man sniffed before asking in a gravelly voice, “You young folks need some help?”

You and Tumble looked at each other, teary-eyed, unsure how to respond.

“I fought in two wars, you know,” The old man said after the silence stretched out. “I fought for my country, and everybody in that country. Everybody, not just humans. I don’t give two shits about what you are. I’m asking y’all if you need some help as a neighbor.”

You couldn’t help but break down. “Yes, sir,” You said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “We would appreciate that very much.”

Tumble nodded, unable to speak.

You learned his name was Benny, and that he was an ex-marine, having served more than forty years before a death in the family drove him to drink himself out of the military. As a serviceman, he’d fought alongside all different types of people, humans and non-humans alike. Now he lived as a hermit with few friends and he rarely got out. You told him he would have always been welcome to come to the shop for a cup of coffee, but he insisted he didn’t touch the stuff. You smiled and said he should have come anyway. He chuckled.

Because of his leg, there wasn’t much Tumble could do to help besides give quiet direction. Your belly made bending rather difficult, so while Benny shoveled small amounts of the debris for you to sift through, you and Tumble took turns sitting and working, ten minutes each.

After about an hour of steady work, three more trucks and a few cars pulled up behind Benny’s vehicle. You recognized a lot of them as your regular customers, but there were a few faces you hadn't seen in the shop before, including a heckler who'd once jeered at the two of you out of his car window. They, too, had brought tools and organizational material, pulling it out and lining the sidewalk with it. They all offered they’re help in sifting through the wreckage, and you gratefully accepted their help.

One truck bore a trailer laden with lumber, driven by a massive orc and three smaller orcs. The name on the side of the truck said _Silvertooth Contractors_.

“Mr. Broadfoot?” The massive orc said, extending his hand for Tumble’s.

“Just Tumble, please,” He said, taking the orcs hand and trying not to wince at the force with which the large man squeezed.

“I’m Conrad Silvertooth. These’re my boys,” He said, jerking his head at the three shorter orcs. Were they just teenagers? It was hard to tell because of their size. “Thought you might have the notion to get this place rebuilt. We’re the finest contractors in this town and we’d be happy to take the job.”

“Oh,” Tumble said, gulping a little. “Thank you for your offer, but I have no way to pay you. We’ve lost everything. There isn’t even enough to start over.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Conrad said. “Let’s say free coffee for me and my boys for life, and we’ll call it even.”

Tumble’s slow grin lit up his face for the first time in weeks. “Deal.”

Before long, there were at least twenty five people at the site, working to clear away the debris and bring you anything that could be worth salvaging. Conrad and his boys began carefully ripping out everything that would need to be replaced and setting up new supports.

It had been a long day, and so much work had been done. The people who had come out to help left for the day with the promise to return tomorrow. You and Tumble thanked them over and over.

That night, in the motel, you held Tumble close to you as he sobbed himself to sleep. These tears were years in the making, a culmination of all his fear and anger and anxiety, as well as relief and gratitude. They didn’t _all_ hate him. There were good folks in this town. Though scarce, compassion for one’s neighbor did still exist here. Tumble was overwhelmed with it all, and all he could do was weep.

The next morning, he sat up and pressed his ear to your belly.

“Still alright in there?” He asked.

“They seem to be,” You said. “I saw the OB/GYN while I was in the hospital. The three of them seem perfectly fine and are still developing normally.

His ears perked up. “Three?”

“Yep,” You said with a smile. “You were right.”

He laid three kisses on your stomach and stayed there, listening to them move around.

Later that day, Freemont came to visit you with a satyr lawyer named Song.

“We’ve gotten some results back,” Freemont said. “It was definitely arson. We found obvious evidence of an accelerant reaching from the back rooms to the front door in both the upper and lower floors, all the way up to the outer stair case. They couldn’t get the door to the apartment open, but they managed to find a way to get a small hose under the door and spray the ground at the entrance with a flammable substance. The burn patterns match gasoline, but we took samples to test it, and found traces of liquid boot polish.”

“The shoe store owner?” You asked, gasping.

“It’s looking like it, yes,” Song said, going over his notes. “He’s being interrogated presently. He looks real good for it, but the police need more evidence against him.”

The owner’s criminal trial was going to be at state level, since it was a federal offense. If they could get up the evidence, he’d be facing multiple criminal counts, including attempted murder and grievous bodily injury. If convicted, he faced decades in jail.

“Apparently his wife left him a few years ago for a Neogon,” Freemont said. “He’s pretty bitter. But talking to people who know him, he’s always harbored a hatred for beast-people.” Freemont rolled his eyes and sighed. “Everyone wants to know about motive. It’s hard for people believe that sometimes, people do bad shit because they’re hateful people who want to do hateful things. Assholes don’t need a reason to be assholes.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” You told him, a little of your rage returning. Tumble took your hand, and you calmed.

“I’m more than happy to sue the bastard for all he’s worth,” Song said. “I’m sure you folks could use the money, considering.” He gestured at your belly.

“You’re right about that,” You said. “I threatened to do that months ago, when he refused to sell Tumble a pair of shoes. Maybe I should have gone through with it then and spared us all this…”

“No. If I know anything about guys like this, that would have been more likely to make him retaliate. His type are fairly predictable,” Said Freemont.

“I’ll have the affidavits filed this afternoon,” Song said. “We’ll have this guy strung up in court before the week is out. I’ll get it pushed through for you guys.”

“Thank you,” Tumble said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me til you’ve seen my legal fees,” Song chuckled. “But don’t worry, you guys are going to be alright.”

Song was true to his word. Before the month was out, you and Tumble owned the shoe store and the previous owner was forced to pay you a hefty fine before going to prison. The two of you decided to convert the old cafe into a two story house for you and the children, and put the new cafe into the shoe store, which was large enough to include a bakery, something Tumble was excited about.

By the time the babies were due, you had a new home and new business, and better, you had friends in this town you knew you could count on. There had been an outpouring of support as well as donations for the little ones’ arrival. Tumble didn’t know what to do in the face of such generosity. He was so overwhelmed that half the time he was laughing and the other half he cried.

The girls came two weeks after construction was complete. Tumble was beside himself when they were born, wanting to hold them all at once, though he only had so many arms. He sat with you in the hospital, rocking two of them while you fed the third. They looked mostly like him, but their fur was more brown than grey and their eyes were like yours. It also looked like they'd grow hair on their head like yours, which wasn't common for Leporids. They would be unique, even though there were three of them.

“I told you we’d be okay,” You said with a tired smile.

He looked up at you with a soft grin, nuzzling the one on the left. “Yeah,” He said with a laugh. “I should listen to you more.”

“Yes, you should,” You agreed. The little one at your breast hiccuped and let go, and you moved her to your shoulder for a burp.

“Do you think we should wait until they can walk to get married?” He asked you suddenly. “So that they can be flower girls.”

You smiled at the thought. “If you went and got a justice of the peace, I’d marry you right now, tits out and everything.”

He snorted and choked, nearly waking the girls in his arms. “I’d rather we were properly dressed at our wedding, honey,” He said, amused.

“If you say so,” You said, switching out one of the girls in his arms for the one you held. As she latched on, you stared at her fondly and stroked her fur, just as soft as her fathers.

Yeah. You’d all be okay.


End file.
